


Addiction

by Prostranstvo



Category: Zeta Gundam, 機動戦士ガンダム | Mobile Suit Gundam (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prostranstvo/pseuds/Prostranstvo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Negotiations between the AEUG and Zeon lead to the forming of old habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addiction

_Eighty five, eighty six, eighty seven..._

Quattro Bajeena, if that is what he was calling himself now, was lying naked on his back looking up at the moss green ceiling of the Gawadan's inner most bedroom counting the rivets in the metal tiles. It was a habit he formed a long time ago in the hours of the morning between twilight and dawn when he would lie awake trying desperately to distract himself from thinking anything but her. Her and her death. Her and Amuro. Thinking about her now was not an option, then again thinking about himself, about what he just did, wasn't an option either. His orders from Wong Lee and his benefactors were clear. Negotiate peace with Zeon. He knew what he was getting into, and that meant he also knew who he was eventually going to have to get into. It wasn't unfamiliar territory to him, but just because something is well-known doesn't mean it is always a pleasant place to be.

_Eighty eight, eighty nine, nintey..._

Haman Karn took out a pack of cigarettes from the utilitarian side dresser next to the four post non-standard issue military bed, removed a short white stick from the blue carton using only her teeth and her pursed red lips, and suddenly with a flick of her naked wrist the smell of tobacco wafted through the stagnant recycled air of the ship. Real tobacco. Gauloises, no doubt imported from Earth. The Federation had placed a tariff on tobacco since the start of the One Year War, and it was still in effect. Back during his days as the Red Comet, the men in his care would always complain about the smokes they got, which were essentially herbal and left an aftertaste in your mouth that caused even the most war harden veterans to exclaim they would rather huff Zaku exhaust. He wonders what type of backroom deals were made for these vapors, and if some poor son of a bitch from the Federation Department of Commerce once in the same position he is now. 

No, like everyone else cast off into space like them she probably bought them off the black market. This tête-à-tête was for him alone.

If he had to guess he figured she started around the time her father died. He first caught behind a rosebush with a cigarette in her mouth two days after the state funeral on Axis. She was squatting in the grass in her garden peppered with perfumed white and pink flowers just ready to bud, and the rolled paper in her mouth was half smoked and half smoldered by tears that he would later kiss away that night out of nothing more than the mutual pity out of also having a father murdered for the sake of politics. He never saw her do it in front of Mineva, or her men, or anyone really other than him. It was the only sign of dependency, the only sign of weakness, he swore she ever showed. He was reminded of a story he heard about wolves in the wilds of what little was left of Earth's forests exposing their necks to call off enemies within their own ranks, and in the end he secretly enjoyed this private showing of capitulation more than he hated not being able to live with himself the next day.

“So what are we going to do about Scirocco?” she said as a thin stream of smoke slid out from between her teeth. Ahh, business after pleasure. So that is how it's going to be. The mere utterance of the word we caused him to shudder. It was the same feeling he got in a mobile suit when he entered Earth's gravity from orbit, an oppressing feeling that weights down up on your entire being and causes your whole body to shiver in its wake. There was the AEUG and Zeon, two groups currently held together by the demands of his superiors, and the two people inside this room. Two equally fucked up individuals who were ready to turn on each other the moment one got bored with the other. Besides that, there was no we. There never was, there never would be. 

He turned from his back onto his side, the silk sheets covering his hips and legs, and he watched her bare shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath in the room's dim light,. For a second she almost looked docile, and he had to blink several times in order to stop his eyes from playing tricks on him. 

“Don't you mean what are you going to do about Scirocco? I did my part already.” 

She laughed, but it was never a genuine laugh with her, it was always a snicker of bemusement. No, she would never be stupid enough to show her genuine feelings in front of anyone, even him. Six years ago she might have been naive enough to let him read her like a book, but now all the reading was reserved for Newtypes like her. Newtypes like him could only look at the pictures. She was as brilliant at hiding her true intentions as well as he was, without the advantage of a mask, and he would admire her for that if it wasn't for the fact that above all else he wanted her dead.

“And you did your part admirably.”

She smiled with the cigarette tucked tightly in the corner of her mouth. It wasn't a happy smile though, or at least it wasn't an expression you would expect from somebody you just finished having sex with. Rather it was the way a cat smiled after it knocked something off a shelf or a table. He remembered his sister's cat back from the days when he still called himself Casval. The little black and white creature would slowly amble its way up to wherever something fragile was, and when whatever it was after went crashing to the floor, it would give you this satisfied Cheshire grin. It knew what it did, and it was proud of it. Haman wasn't happy, he didn't think she was capable of truly ever feeling that, but she could at least feel pride in the wake of destruction, and for her that was close enough to bliss.

She tipped some ashes into the ash tray before she continued.

“If I can lure him onto the ship under the false pretenses of a treaty, can you pull the trigger?”

Of course he could pull the trigger. That was part of being a solider, and being a solider was one of the few things he considered himself a true proficient at. He was a failure as a brother, a lover, and a son, but in killing people Char Aznable excelled. With the quick precision he was known for in battle, he removed the cigarette from between her fingers with the calloused tips of his, and just like that declared the cigarette for himself. If he can't have his dignity from her right now, he can at least have her damn cigarette. She said nothing and merely looked on as he laid there with his newly acquired prize, which was rare for her. Haman Karn was a woman who would never let others take from her so easily. It was a strange look, one he had never seen on her face before, and if she were any other woman he would call it a look of helplessness. The thought was so absurd he almost laughed out loud. It was then, while he was moving the cigarette up to his mouth to stifle this outburst, that he noticed her hair standing up and the pinpricks on her skin. She was still covered in goosebumps from when their fingers briefly touched as he reached for her smoke. 

Maybe the cigarette was never her shameful addiction.

His addiction was being a solider. Her addiction was loving him. 

“Set up a time and place, and I will be there,” and with that he snuffed out the butt.


End file.
